A Night in The Life
by captaincorvus
Summary: Set after Arkham Asylum and before Arkham City. It is a quiet night in Gotham, too quiet for Selina. With Joker's recent outbreak from Arkham Asylum, danger is definitely brewing. She decides to investigate Gotham's most notorious villains to determine who's going to strike first. All the while, battling a few personal questions of her own...
1. The Iceberg Lounge

** Iceberg Lounge.**

Selina had been perched on top of the Ace Chemical building for approximately fifteen minutes before she had realised how quiet Gotham was. Being a Sunday night, not even the residents who had the misfortune of living in the city had ventured out. No drunks had been called to their local watering hole to watch the game, as there were none on. The citizens had all subconsciously decided to stay in and await their next weekend, dreading the working week that lay before them. She had been clicking her diamond-tipped fingertips together absentmindedly before she realised that even the biggest villains in Gotham weren't out wreaking havoc tonight. The city was as quiet as a grave. This was usually a bad sign.

There had been an undeniable heat in Gotham over the past week. Had it not have been slathered with thick black smog, the city may have been bathed in glorious sunshine and perfectly blue sky. Instead, the humidity hung thickly, creating a hellish atmosphere. It always seemed to be night here. Tensions lay thick, blood was starting to boil and like a ticking bomb, it wouldn't be long until something inevitably kicked off.

There had been recent disputes between Two Face and Penguin. A little spat of who claimed the new territory of the abandoned police station and yard. The force had moved to bigger headquarters not long ago. The rising amount of criminal activity had caused them to up their game and move to bigger headquarters. Now the two crime bosses squabbled over the area like children who couldn't share a toy. From there, a grudge had been in place. When any of the two gangs had met, there had been chaos. Even Gotham police couldn't handle it without the help of Batman.

She had also heard whisperings of a giant Joker attack. Rumor had it, having got himself out of Arkham Asylum, he wanted to celebrate. Word on the street had it, that it was also the anniversary of him becoming the Joker. How long it'd been, no-one could remember. But Selina was sure he'd make the biggest spectacle of it that he possibly could.

Selina stood and stretched herself to the sound of groaning leather. She scanned the city, but nothing seemed to be happening. Not even petty crime. She had glanced several times to the sky for the Bat Signal, but even he, it seemed, was staying in. She looked towards the amusement mile and saw the smoke billowing from the chimneys from the Sionis Steel Mill. Joker and Harley were no doubt planning something horrific.

She took a deep breath and plunged from the edge of the building, using her whip to grapple her from ledge to ledge, building to building. She felt restless with the lack of activity and felt that some of the other outcasts of Gotham may know more than she did. She continued to zip through the cities heading in no particular direction, when she landed herself somewhere she hadn't visited for a while.

The Iceberg Lounge.

Taking a quick glance each way beforehand, Selina pushed the heavy wooden door and slipped inside, taking care that nobody saw her. Instantly, she felt the chill of the cold club, making her feel slightly feverish compared to the stagnant heat of the outdoors. She wandered though the dark corridor and past the bare cloakroom. She spied the vacant hooks and was bitter there were no coats to dip her fingers into. A lot of the less intelligent visitors to the bar were often foolish enough to leave their coats, only to come back later to find every thread of it mercilessly stolen by the scum of the underworld.

She carried on straight into the main lounge, the shimmering of ice was almost painful to the eyes and a cold breeze circled the room every so often. Large ice sculptures hung over the lounge from the walls, immortal in the low temperature of the room. Although he didn't wish to admit it, Freeze had sculpted these statues as a gift to Penguin upon the opening of the bar. A sign of gratitude perhaps, for Penguin creating such a place catering to those, like himself, that needed such a cold climate to survive.

She eyed the booths each side of the room as she entered, only to see not even a handful of low-power rogues moodily sipping their drinks. Nothing but petty criminals dreaming their way to the top. No pose of a threat at all for Selina. Just a quiet night here too, it seemed. She slunk her way across to the bar over the ghostly blue mezzanine floor. There was a degenerate or two propped up on stools surrounded it. Staring aimlessly in to space, their minds clouded with plans that they hoped would win them great acclaim. A whip crack of voice snapped her out of her observation.

"Well if it isn't my favourite pussy."

Selina scowled, but bit her tongue at his use of endearment.

"Oswald." She greeted.

The rotund brute of a man stood behind the bar, his monocle shining as if it, too, were carved from ice. His rotting and putrid teeth just about gleamed in a sickly grin. Most bartenders in the city were brooding quiet men, their souls destroyed from the confessions of a thousand drunks. Oswald, however, was not. To those who respected him, he was understanding and quite loyal. To those who weren't… Well, refuse to pay a tab at the Iceberg Lounge and you were lucky to ever walk again. Still, Oswald had always been pleasant to her, and she, knowing it was the safest thing to do, she reciprocated.

"And what brings you 'ere my darlin'?" inquired The Penguin in his gruff cockney accent, snapping the top off a fresh cigar with his horrendous teeth before lighting it calmly. Unlike the other bartenders in the city, The Penguin enjoyed listening to his patrons. It was a useful way of gaining inside knowledge and then perhaps using it to infiltrate anyone he didn't get along with. Not to mention, a little way of making some money on the side. Typical crime boss behaviour.

"Not a lot. Seemed a little too quiet. Thought I'd see what was going on in fair Gotham."

"Not a lot always seems to be going on when you're not involved." Oswald grinned.

"How so?"

"Just the usual muddle. Everyone's scramblin' to be at the top. Another day in Hell."

"Ain't that the truth." Selina shrugged, hopping onto the nearest bar stool.

"Saucer of milk, for the lady?" Oswald asked, stooping to the fridge in the counter below him for the usual carton of milk. Selina nodded, being sure to give him a charming smile. _This is on the house, Selina, don't piss him off_, she internally warned herself.

"And how 'bout you," he asked, "No new mice to play with? Rats to catch?

"Sadly not. Besides, I think you're the one dealing with rats right now."

Oswald grinned even more. If she hadn't known him so well, she'd have been scared for saying the wrong thing. But enough time sat at this very bar taught her that Oswald liked to gloat about his own schemes more than hearing about them. He was a politician through and through. Although his stint at Mayor had backfired years ago, the air and attitude of one remained. Perhaps that's what made his fight with Two Face so bloodthirsty - A campaign of sorts, but a dangerous one that didn't need any votes to determine a winner.

"Funny you should say that," Oswald chuckled, placing a martini glass of milk before her and taking another puff on his cigar. "I had been doing some pest control of my very own." Selina frowned inquisitively as he gestured for her to lean closer in. The cigar smoke shrouded them in secrecy as he leant across to mutter to her.

"Put some traps down, in the ol' police HQ. Wouldn't want ya to stumble across them on your nightly prowl, so I thought I oughta warn ya."

"What kind of traps?" She whispered, careful that none of the lounging criminals overheard their conversation and gave the game away. Then, she'd be in deep shit.

"Sticky traps. Human-sized sticky traps." Oswald hissed with glee. "Two Face sends his men in, thinking the place abandoned and available, and before you know it, they all get stuck to the floor. It's industrial stuff, only I have the solvent to remove it. They'll be desperately tearing their own limbs off to get free. " Oswald starting wheezing with sadistic laughter and Selina felt her stomach turn in disgust. She had seen rodents get caught in those kinds of traps, and as Oswald said, desperation would cause them to be ripped open in the struggle to get away. She'd seen mice caught in them that had torn open their own stomachs trying to prise themselves free from the horrific adhesive. Human sized victims would make one hell of a mess. She sat back from him, her glass of milk no longer seeming as appealing as it originally did. He pulled away also, the devilish delight in his plan still shining in his eyes.

"I've been meanin' to tell you beforehand. Wouldn't want to accidentally kill my favourite kitty cat now, would I?" Selina smiled weakly at his kind gesture and bravely downed the last of her milk. Her mind was still vivid with the gory image of Two Face's goons literally pulling themselves to pieces trying to get out of the industrial glue - A grim image indeed. She needed to change the subject before she puked her free drink back all over him.

"Any news on the Joker?" She quietly asked, again wary of the people sitting in the lounge. Gossip was dangerous in this place. But as Oswald had just proved, a good informative way of staying safe too.

"Nothin'," Oswald sighed, his grin dropped as he said it, taking her empty glass and wiping it with a mangy dishcloth. "and nothin's usually a bad sign when it comes to 'im. He's never stayed quiet for this long, so he's got to be plannin' something big." He took his cigar and stubbed it on a big glass ashtray on his side of the counter. "We all need to be ready when it happens." He warned.

"I'm nothing but." Selina purred at him. She somehow felt safer than usual in the company of The Penguin. He had always treated her with a sort of paternal care and kept an eye out for her. She slid from the barstool and back onto her feet, wiping the trace of milk left staining her lips. "I'm going now, Ozzie. You have a good night."

"Goodnight darlin'." he wished leaning over the bar to give her a peck on the cheek. Most men doing that would have received a sharp slash of claws across the cheek, but Selina smiled warmly and knew that he always had her back.

She heard his voice follow her as she left.

"You be careful now."


	2. The Tea Party

**2\. The Tea Party**

Selina had travelled a short distance before landing to wander the back streets of darkest Gotham. Little boutiques and jewellers were shut up tight, their windows barred. A wise notion when it came to the kinds of criminal wandering around. Selina had gazed into the murky windows herself, looking for a steal, but nothing worthy caught her eye. Tonight, there was no urge for material gain, but one of company and reassurance. What Penguin had said of the Joker had made the tension and heat feel almost heavier upon her departure of the Iceberg Lounge. The oppressive suffocation you get when you get into a car that's been sat in heat for too long, choking and stifling.

She had been wandering past the backstreet watchmakers, when she heard a faint ticking. Cocking her ear she presumed it was coming from the shop window. Instead, it was coming from her left, from a broken window of a desolate store. Partly boarded, leaving a wide enough gap to look in. Cautiously, she tiptoed forward when she began to hear a shrill voice chattering away.

"You still haven't drunk your tea, you know. You know what they say about little girls who don't finish their tea-"

Selina stretched as far as she could to peer through the broken window to see the owner of the voice. She wasn't at all surprised to see Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter.

"-that's right, that's right." He continued, "Little girls who don't drink their tea grow up to be dirty, stinking girls who let all the boys feel in their undergarments."

He was sat at the head of a long table, lined with lifeless figures sat in shadow. His conversation was being held with the top half of a dressmaker's female mannequin sat next to him that was clad in a grubby blue dress and a frayed blonde wig. He patted the mannequin's hair and began to stroke it, babbling away excitedly.

"We did so well to find balloons. Yes, found them by the steel mill. Now we have company for the whole evening - All of us!" He clapped hurriedly with glee with and gave a little squeal. "How delightful for all of us!"

Selina craned her neck to see the rest of the figures lining the table; she could see now what they really were. Jervis had tied each of the helium-filled balloons he had found to the rung of each chair lining the table. They all had crude, childishly scrawled faces on them in marker pen, each getting messier and even more disturbing as he had gone along. They hung motionlessly, the faces grinning out in the darkness.

Jervis suddenly shoved his hand into the nearest cake laid on the table. Selina winced as his fist went through the layer of the mould above the frosting. He withdrew his fist, clutching fetid crumbling sponge and tenderly began to wipe it around the mouth of his mannequin. Almost like an infant pretending to feed a baby doll.

"Theeeeeere. Now isn't that nice? It's my best recipe you know, not many can disagree with truly how scrumptious it tastes."

Jervis' head snapped away from his beloved mannequin and stared accusingly at one of the balloon heads, although he had heard it speak ill of him. Watching his gaze, Selina noticed it was the one sat right beneath the very window she was watching through. He stood from his seat, glaring at the balloon with pure hatred. At round 4' 8", he wasn't a terribly imposing or threatening stature, but Jervis' eyes blazed like fire as he began to raise his shrill voice in fury.

"Do you have some disagreement with me, Mr. Malone? Is my hospitality not to your standards? Have you dined better than what lies before you?" he shrieked. The balloon verbally under fire, as it would, hung in the air, its primitive grin shining permanently.

"I feel, Mr. Malone," Jervis spat viciously, "that if it were _your_ party, you would want no quabbles! You. never. quabble. with. a. host!" His voice became higher and sharper, as he banged his cake-covered fist on the table with every word. Selina cringed at the squealing pitch of his voice.

"I will have no scrutiny here, , how very, very, dare you. I really do think" - A glint of metal caught Selina's eye as he suddenly snatched up a cake knife – "you need to work on your TABLE MANNERS!"

Selina ducked instinctively as he hurled the knife at the disruptive "guest" - there was a sharp _pop_, and a clatter of the knife hitting the floor – as Mr. Malone met the end of his days. Then, silence.

Selina stayed crouched underneath the window for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. If he'd have caught sight of her during his rage, then there really would have been bloodshed tonight. She strained her ears to hear what was going on and heard a little giggle; a spine-chilling giggle like blood slowly trickling down a wall.

"That showed him for quabbling with _me_." Jervis hissed. There was a pause, and the hiss became a sickly tone once more. "Why haven't you touched your tea? You know what becomes of little girls who don't drink their tea…"

Selina ducked away from the window and the freakish scene happening within. Out of sight, she stood up tall and brushed herself off. _Jervis is no threat to anyone tonight_, she thought to herself. She knew full well that these make-believe scenarios he put himself into would keep him occupied for a while. Without a doubt, he'd have the same confrontation again and again with each balloon around until it was only him and "his Alice" left. It wasn't worth sticking around to watch.

Selina turned and crept down the back street from which she came, shaking her head over the bizarre scene she'd just witnessed. Until a thought struck her –

_"__We did so well to find balloons. Yes, found them by the steel mill…"_

Selina stopped. The Steel Mill. Oswald, too, had expressed his concerns over Joker's next move. What the hell did balloons have to do with it? She took a deep breath. Should she go and investigate…? At least if she saw anything first hand she could reciprocate the favour to The Penguin as he had with her. Maybe she could tell Batman…

Batman.

She shook her head at the thought of him. He'd been elusive of her lately, perhaps too ashamed to admit the dark nights they'd shared together.

_ The crashing of a vase of flowers onto her bedroom floor. A battle of rough kisses as the polished wood of the headboard cracked under gripped fists. His low husky groan in her ear as she'd dragged her sharp nails into the flesh of his toned back, urging him…. _

She pulled herself out of the memory. He always did this. Too proud to admit he'd succumb to his lust, his need for relief. His need for her. The hero of the day couldn't be associated with villains. He'd often asked in the aftermath of their passions, where she really stood.

"_I just can't trust you, Selina_," he'd say, ironically donning the mask as he said it. "_I just don't know where you really stand_." It was a statement she had no answer for. Like them, she was a criminal. Like him, she cared about the city. She'd made it this far and had been alright, that was for sure.

She lifted her head to the muggy skies, clouds toxic fumes swirling lazily overhead, deliberating her next move.

Visiting the Steel Mill to investigate could possibly save her life, or if she wasn't careful, end it.


End file.
